La Rima Tibia
by ArchFaith
Summary: Depressed and lonely, one of the BustAGroove girls needs time to think about her life. Luckily, one of the BAG guys is there to give her closure and be with her. A unique BAG love story between 2 unlikely characters.The Final Chapter is not what you exp
1. Chapter 1: Warmth

Disclaimer: All Bust-A-Groove elements belong to Enix. I own nothing.

Note: This is my attempt at a BAG romance I have never before read anywhere on the Web.

UPDATE: 10/23/04 Now presenting the updated version of LRT!! The paragraphs have been spaced out...that's pretty much all that's different.

La Rima Tibia

(Warm Rhythm)

by ArchFaith

Raining, it was raining. So wet, so cold. The droplets splashed against the black cement of the neon city of Tokyo. Everywhere, people were inside, enjoying the warmth of their houses, with loved ones surrounding them.

The rain belonged outside. The warmth belonged inside.

I belonged inside, along with the warmth I longed for desparately longed for. Yet I stood, soaked, on the sidewalk. There was no part of my body that was dry. My hair, clothes, shoes were full of liquid. My face was wet, but whether it was tears or the rain, I couldn't tell.

A woman pulling a little child along hurried past. She brushed against me coldly. "Mama, what is that girl doing out in the rain without an umbrella?" the child asked.

"Hush sweetheart. Don't mind anyone," the woman told her child as they walked along. My sense of hearing was extraordinary; I could hear the woman whispering, "Don't associate with street walkers like that, darling. Never."

I sighed. If they knew who I was, they'd change their tune. Definitely.

I decided that I had to keep walking. Standing here in the rain would only give me a cold. I walked down the street, shivering. I regretted not bringing along my coat. I briefly comtemplated returning to the place I had come from. There, my closest friend would be probably give me a scolding and send me to bed. But I could not return; I needed to talk with someone.

It must have been midnight. The wind whipped around me. I hugged myself, trying to keep the warmth in my body. Where I had come from, there was warmth, but not warmth. It was hard to explain.

I must've walked at least twenty blocks before reaching my destination. Twenty, or ten? Or fifteen. The rain and tears blocked my view. I still looked both ways before crossing the street, but I walked like a zombie. I smiled grimly. Bi-O would resent that.

Night is so frightening. My mind would gather images and spread them before me. My worst fears would appear before me, taunting me. But tonight was different. I did not fear; I only hoped. I hoped that the place I was going to would have warmth in it. A warmth, and a person to spread the warmth. A person to tell me "I love you."

My closest friend tried to stop me from going. But I wanted to go. My friend thought it was a waste of time. "But bad stuff could happen to you!" my friend exclaimed in a childish voice.

"If I don't go, I'll go crazy," I answered. I had stormed out of the place I had come from. Ran down the street, in the rain, walked and walked and walked. And this brings me to here.

My destination. It was an apartment building. The person to spread warmth lived on the top floor, in the penthouse. I wearily climbed up the steps, not wanting to use the elevator. I silently stepped up to the door and knocked.

I waited.

I knocked again.

The door opened. The person to spread warmth stood there. I flashed a weary smile before collapsing against the person, weak from the rain and the hunger inside me.

"Shorty?"

The person who spreads warmth...


	2. Chapter 2: Trip

Disclaimer: All Bust-A-Groove elements belong to Enix. I own nothing.

La Rima Tibia

(Warm Rhythm)

Chapter 2: Trip

by ArchFaith (formerly known as the ArchPrincess of Saturn)

"Shorty?"

I raised my head momentarily.

"Hi."

He looked surprised to see me. Of course, no one would expect an old friend to suddenly pop up one rainy night. Soaked to the bone.

He must've noticed the tears that mingled with the rain on my face. "Shorty-pie, what's wrong?" he asked. He was using that old nickname for me. He had started calling me that the year of Bust-A-Groove 1. He had rarely used it the second year, though. Perhaps because he thought I was too old to be called such a childish name. But now I appreciated it.

"Come inside and tell me." I let him lead me into his penthouse. Inside it was warmer than the harsh wet world I had come from. He had a couple of luxurious oversized couches. There were various plants in corners of the room. A strange painting hung in the corner. Some sort of abstract art. On the buffet table was a frame of the Person in his dancing outfit. I realized this was the first time I had ever been in his house.

He made me sit down on the couch. He gave me some tissues to wipe my face, then asked me, "Shorty, what's wrong?"

I dried my tears, then told him my problem. Now that I think about it, maybe it was nothing to get upset about. But at the moment, I was extremely upset. "It's about my parents," I began softly.

"What about them? Did something happen?" he questioned.

"Well...kind of," I answered, looking down at the floor. _Shorty, what's wrong with you?_ I thought angrily. _You walk all this way to see him, and now you can't even tell him? Spit it out!_

"They...left me alone again," I finally said. "Father's going to Canada for an international meeting. Mother is going with him so she can do some photo shoots." I felt my eyes tearing up again. "And...and..." my voice was so choked, I couldn't even breathe straight. I took in a mouthful of air and whispered, "Why? Can't they even spend, like, a minute with me? Do they care more about their jobs than me?! Do they care about me at all?!"

I broke into tears. I felt so childish, like a little girl. But I couldn't help it. The Person moved closer to me and placed his arms around me.

"Shorty, don't feel that way," he soothed. "I'm sure they care about you very much. And they didn't leave you alone...you have Columbo, right?"

"Yes, I do have Columbo," I replied, referring to my closest friend, who had tried to prevent me from making my midnight journey. "But...he's not same."

The Person looked thoughtful. I wondered if he knew what I meant. He probably did, seeing as he was older than I was. He said nothing for a few minutes, as if in deep thought. I was content to lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.

But I couldn't keep my eyes shut. Flickers of light prevented me. I opened them again, and saw something wonderful. How could I have missed it when I walked in?

A blazing fire sat before us in the fireplace. Fire. It spread warmth. The Person who Spreads Warmth had a fire burning. It was so warm.

I almost dozed off with my head on his shoulder. He gently nudged me to keep me awake.

"Shorty, get out of those wet clothes."

"I didn't bring any other clothes," I answered, my eyes still shut. "'Sides, I'm too tired."

"You can borrow some of my clothes. You might catch a cold," he countered.

"Mmmmm," I murmured back, snuggling against him.

He slowly stood up, disrupting my perfect position. "Do you trust me enough to let me undress you?" he asked.

What an awkward question to ask someone. If my eyes had been open, I probably would have a red face. "Yeah, I guess," I answered, half-asleep.

"Okay then," he replied. He picked me up—yes, picked me up—and carried me through a door. Into what must have been his room. And lay me down on what must have been his bed.

First came my pants and suspenders. They slipped off easily.

Then came my long shirt. He had to pull it off.

He didn't bother with my underwear. Actually, I didn't trust him to undress me _that_ much.

He took the ribbons off my long pigtails and combed down my frizzly brown hair.

Finally, he placed some pajamas on me. They were probably his own.

Every few seconds, I would hear him hesitate. I once opened my eye, and caught him staring at me. He blushed, then turned away.

He tucked the covers around me. It was like a blanket of warmth covering me, securing me, telling me everything was going to be alright. I felt his hand brush my face gently. I opened one eye and smiled. "Good night kiss," I requested.

The Person smiled and shrugged. "Sure," he said, bending down and kissing my forehead. The kiss was as light as a feather, as soft as cotton candy. I wanted more of it, but decided not to ask.

"Good night," I mumbled, turning onto my side, pulling the warmth up to my chin.

"Good night," he echoed, walking to the door. "Good night, Shorty-pie. I have a feeling your dreams will be sweet tonight."

When the door closed, so did my mind for the night.

-

"Shorty-pie....."

He held out his arms, inviting me to him. "Angel....."

"Shorty-pie."

He took me in his arms and gave me a long kiss

"Shorty-pie?"

He whispered in my ear, "I love you."

"C'mon, Shortstuff, are you gonna stay in bed the whole morning?"

He told me I would have sweet dreams last night. Ironic. I had been dreaming of him and it was he who awoke me from my reverie. I slowly sat up. "Good morning," I yawned.

He was standing there, wearing a red apron. The sight of it made me giggle. "Hey! Do I smell bacon?" I asked, sniffing the air.

He smiled. "Yep. I actually got around to cooking for a change. C'mon, let's eat."

I leaped out of bed, still wearing his pajamas. I padded into the dining room and sat down at the table. He put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me. I gobbled it up. I was very hungry, too upset to eat dinner last night. I finished before he did and asked for seconds.

"Wow! I didn't know you could cook!" I exclaimed.

He grinned. "That's the first time anyone's ever complemented me on my cooking," he laughed. He stood up and went over to the window. In the morning sun he looked especially handsome. He was the kind of person who seemed predictable at first glance, but was completely unpredictable up close.

He stared out the window a couple of minutes. He then turned to me. "Shorty, I've got somethin' to ask you."

"Yeah, what is it?" I asked, noting the very serious look on his face.

"As it turns out," he began, shifting his feet, "I'm going on a trip to Paris tomorrow morning."

"Paris?" I asked, excited. I had heard so much about the City of Lights. I've only seen it in books or on television, but it seemed so romantic. "That's—"

And then I remembered that I wouldn't be going with him. "—great."

I only had today to spend with him. Then I would have to go back home, to my empty house. Columbo would probably ask me where I was and what I was doing. And then there would be nothing. Just more days of lying on my bed wondering where my uncaring parents were. More days of reading stupid books and watching boring TV shows and playing endless board games.

He walked back over to me. "Shorty, I know you're disappointed. But..."

"But?"

"Would you like to come with me?"

I was completely blown away. He had just asked me to come with him?! I felt like fainting. Paris? Me? And him?

I tried to make sure he wasn't fooling around. "Are you kiddin' me?"

"I'm serious."

I still didn't feel sure. "For real?"

"For real."

Then came the obligatory, "You really don't have to do this. I'll be fine right here."

He took my hands in his. "I really want you to come with me. It will get your mind off things. You need a break."

A break with you is what I need. I flashed a smile. "Since you insist, I'll go."

He grinned. "I'll have to call the airline to get another ticket," he said, going over to the phone.

Paris. A walk in the rain, alone with my fears and visions, only last night, had led me to this. And it led me to him. I glanced at him, talking on the phone. Did he care for me that much?

Is that why he invited me?

I guess I'll just have to find out.

-

Columbo stood on the top landing of the staircase in the foyer. "Shorty! You're home!" he squealed. He noticed the Person standing next to me. "Oh hi," he greeted shyly.

To prepare for our trip to Paris, I needed to pack a suitcase. The Person and I had to stop by my house to get my stuff.

Columbo suddenly became worried. "Are you okay?" he asked, scampering down the stairs to me. "Did you guys do anything last night?"

"No Col," I answered, picking him up and giving him a hug. "I'm fine. And we didn't do anything last night."

"That's good! Oh yeah, while you were gone, I picked out three books for you to read and four TV shows we can watch. And after that, we'll play a board game. See! Me and you can have lotsa fun by ourselves!" Columbo squealed, bouncing up and down.

"Actually.....I'm not staying home."

"Huh?!"

"Me and him and going on a trip," I said, nodding to the Person.

"A trip? To where."

"Not far....well, not very near, either..Paris."

"What?! Shorty, you can't go!" Columbo said, jumping from my arms onto the floor. "Your mother and father—"

"Mother and Father don't care," I snapped. "I'm just here to get my suitcase." I raced up the stairs and into my room, leaving the Person to convince Columbo about the trip.

I pulled out my old green suitcase from the back of my closet. I opened it and began searching for things to bring. I grabbed all the nice clothes I could find: some pants, some shirts, a few skirts, a few dresses, and some underwear. I packed my toothbrush and hair spray, and other things a girl can't live without.

My suitcase was so heavy I had to sit on it to close it. I lugged it down the stairs just in time to hear the closing arguments.

"--Good care of her," the Person was saying.

"But that's not the point," Columbo argued. "Her parents--"

"What kind of parents would leave their daughter alone all the time?" the Person demanded. Columbo shrank back, unable to answer. The Person then noticed me standing on the stairs. "Are you ready?" he asked. I nodded.

I gave my suitcase to him and he went out, to put it in the car. I bent down and gave Columbo a kiss. "Col, please," were the only words I could tell my best friend. I rose and began to walk out.

As I came to the door, Columbo cried, "Shorty!" I turned. "Shorty...have a good trip," he said slowly.

I smiled. _Thank you, Col. I knew you'd understand._

It is exciting, but it is love?


	3. Chapter 3: All Aboard

Disclaimer: All Bust-A-Groove elements belong to Enix. I own nothing.

Atari belongs to whoever it was produced and published under.

Note: In this story, whenever it says 'he' or 'him' or 'his' I am referring to the "Mysterious Person" (Shorty's love) unless otherwise noted.

La Rima Tibia

(Warm Rhythm)

by the ArchFaith (formerly known as the ArchPrincess of Saturn)

"Flight 364, roundtrip to Paris, is now boarding. All handicapped passengers and passengers with small children may begin boarding."

Huh? Am I dreaming?

"I repeat, Flight 364 to Paris is now boarding."

Where am I? I should be at home in my bed, with the blankets tucked up to my chin, keeping the warmth in and the cold out.

"All handicapped passengers and passengers with small children may begin boarding."

I wanted to pull the blanket up to my ears, but I found I didn't have a blanket. Noises invaded my system; sounds of people talking, laughing, shouting; doors opening and closing; loud rumbles of mechanical birds spreading their wings and flying; and distant sounds, like the typing of hands on a keyboard, the soft steps of feet on a thin carpet, the ruffle of a newspaper as it is turned by an eager reader.

One noise caught me. It was strong yet soothing; firm yet warm.

"Shorty, wake up."

My eyelids fluttered. I slowly opened the heavy lids. The first thing I saw was a pair of eyes staring back at me. Then I noticed a mouth giving me a tender smile. I blinked the rest of sleep's dreamlike film from my eyeballs. Oh, it was just him.

I suddenly became aware of my surroundings. The bedroom full of awfully loud noise was actually the airport departure lobby. The people talking were the passengers waiting in line to board the airplane. And the pillow I had been using, which I thought awfully hard and uncomfortable, was actually his lap.

Wide awake now, as he brushed a few brown strands out of my face. "We'll be getting on in a few minutes," he whispered. "So you'd better get up now." I reluctantly raised my head from his warm lap. I pulled myself into a sitting position and stretched. Ah, now I remembered.

After getting my things from my house yesterday, we had gone back to his place. I helped him get his suitcase packed, and after that I rearranged my own. We had eaten dinner and watched TV, before both of us went to get a good night's sleep. He had insisted that I sleep in his bed again, while he slept on the couch. Once again I received a good night kiss, on the forehead. And I wore his pajamas too, since they were so comfortable.

During the night I had that dream again. Him, holding his arms out to me. I rushed towards him, and when I reached him, he kissed me. I wanted my dream to last so long that I could feel it when I woke up. Darn...

I was awoken by the alarm clock on the dresser. 2:30 a.m. Ugh, these flights are much too early. I showered (yes, showered; I used his towel too), brushed my teeth, and got dressed in a black t-shirt with an 'S' on it. I put on black capris and did my hair into little curls tied with red ribbons. He was already awake, and had cooked a quick breakfast of toast and butter. After our quick meal, we drove to the airport. Overtime parking service was provided there, and we got our suitcases out of the car and walked through the revolving doors and up the escalator.

First it was to the checkout counter, which had dozens of people in line. It took about an hour, and when we finally reached the counter, I felt like collapsing and falling asleep on the floor. After a few rounds of questioning, and maybe a little fibbing ("Do you have written permission from this girl's parents to take her out of the country?" "Well...she's my sister, you see." "Yeah, this is my big brother!"), our suitcases were placed into the luggage belt. He had a small leather bag to carry aboard the plane, and on my back hung my red backpack, which was a present from Frida during BAG 1.

Then to the departure gate. It took such a long time! The international gates were further away....in another terminal! There were moving walkways every few kilometers, but due to my lack of sleep, I found the journey to be excruciating to my system.

Finally, after walking for what seemed like miles, I saw the signboard that read "Paris, France.......departing at 5:45 a.m..."

I plopped down into the seat and flung my backpack onto the floor under me. He wearily sat down next to me and put his bag on the ground. Sensing my sleepy uncomfort, he gently lowered me down onto his lap, where I slept for a little while...

Which brings me all the way to now. I checked my watch: 5:30. I had slept for half an hour. Only. It didn't matter, I'd have plenty of time to sleep on the plane.

He was already standing, holding his bag. I got up and put my pack on.

"Attention....Flight 364, rountdrip to Paris, is now ready for general boarding. Will the passengers seated in rows 45 and up please present their boarding passes."

"That's us," he announced. He took me by the hand (yes, by the hand) and we raced to the front of the line, just barely beating it out the other passengers.

Attendants stood by a small table in front of the door leading to the airplane. "Boarding passes, please," one of the attendants said.

He handed her both our boarding passes. "We're together," he said, motioning towards me, his 'sister'. Honestly, I don't know how the woman at the counter believed our story. He and I look nothing alike. We don't even have the same last name. I guess she just wanted us out of the way. Or I guess it was luck. Or I guess it was fate.

She ripped a large piece of each passs and handed them back to us. "Thank you and enjoy your flight," she cheerfully replied. He took my hand and we proceeded into the small passage that led to the airplane door. I wrinkled my nose. It had been awhile since I had last been on a plane, and I had forgotten what the stale pressurized air smelled like.

The door came into view. We stepped up to it. A flight attendant waited there. "Good morning," she greeted. "May I see your boarding passes?" He handed them to her. She took a look at them and said, "You are seated in Row 46. Keep going straight up to the last cabin."

"Thank you," he replied, tucking them into his pocket. He pulled me along into the body of the plane. There was a staircase next to where the flight attendant stood--probably first class. When I was very young, I vaguely remembered being with my parents on their private jet--my father being the ambassador to Canada and my mother being the famous Japanese supermodel, of course they had to travel in style. It was so luxurious! Thick carpets, lush couches, a cocktail bar, cable TV, video games...it was so nice.

But empty. Still empty. I remembered sitting on the velvet couch, drinking a glass of root beer, playing an old Atari game...while my parents sat as far away as they could from me.

Talking to each other, ignoring me. They had only brought me with them so I could make them look good: "Look! Ambassor and Ms. Tomohura brought their little girl with them!"

"They're great parents!" "What a happy little child!"

Darn it...

Shorty, don't think about it. You're not with them right now. You're with him, and you're going to Paris. You're going to have a great time there. So forget about it.

I had called Columbo last night. He told me he didn't quite approve of my vacation, but he realized how depressed I was. I told him to take care of the house. And I promised to send him a postcard.

Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, forty-six. "Here we go," he announced, looking at the row number. "A and B, Shorty. Do you want the window seat?"

I nodded happily. I scooted in while he put his bag into the luggage compartment. I stored my backpack under my seat. Looking out the window, I could see the waiting area of the airport that we had just left. People were still filing in, and I wondered if we would be able to depart by 5:45. But everyone knows airplanes are always late...

By now he was sitting next to me. "We're finally here," he told me happily. "This is the beginning of our vacation."

I smiled. "Thanks a lot for letting me come with you."

"Don't mention it, Shorty-pie," he replied, grinning. "Everyone needs a break sometimes. Especially you."

Especially me? I wasn't sure which emotion that statement was supposed to convey. Tolerance? Fondness? Love?

I pushed it out of my head. I spotted some magazines in the seat pocket. I pulled one of them out. Not being interested in the articles, I flipped to the back page, to the crossword puzzle. Borrowing a pen from him, I began to fill it out.

I was stumped on a few of them. As I pondered the answer to "fast-paced South American-African dance", an announcement came over the voice system.

"Attention passengers. This is your pilot, Captain Takimachi. I'd like to welcome you aboard InterWorld Airlines on Flight 364, bound for Paris, France. Our flight time is approximately 5 hours, and there will be two meals and a light snack served on the way. There will also be two movies shown on the flight."

I looked around me. All the seats were filled with people. While I had been absorbed in completing my puzzle, the passengers had all crammed in.

The captain's voice faded away. In its place came the voice of an attendant. "For our takeoff, please make sure all tray tables are stowed in their upright positions and that all luggage is stored away under your seats or in the overhead luggage bin." The announcement was repeated once again in Japanese and French.

That said, the plane began its slow taxi across the runway. A movie flipped on the screen at the center of the cabin. I didn't pay much attention to it, but it looked like some kind of safety movie. Besides, he was watching it, so what did I have to worry about?

I looked out the window at the ocean water, which could be seen in the distance from the runway. This airport had been built on an artificial island in Tokyo Bay; there was just no room on land.

"Flight attendants, prepare for departure," the captain's staticky voice boomed. The attendants hurried to sit down in their speical seats next to the emergency doors. Everything was ready.

The engines started full blast, and the plane began moving. I smiled to myself, excited. Airplane departures were so exciting! Being lifted up into the air, soaring free, supported by nothing. Well, almost by nothing. I didn't understand airplanes very well. It was like trying to figure out how how a TV works, or a computer. Some things you just couldn't understand.

The plane was zooming across the runway. Finally I felt it begin to lift. The cabin tilted and everyone leaned back in their seats.

I could see the scenes of Tokyo from my window. Gardens and temples, the old style, mixed with skyscrapers and malls, the new style. I caught a glimpse of the N-Studios complex, and thought for a moment that I saw Kitty walking out of it.

And I saw Tokyo Tower. Soon I would be seeing the Eiffel Tower. "Catch ya later, Tokyo," I muttered under my breath.

I continued to look out the window for about ten minutes, as the plane gained altitude. The city turned into an ocean filled with tiny fishing boats. Thin white clouds slowly started to obscure the view, as I kept looking. After a while, my view was surrounded by nothing but white, and I couldn't see anything else.

I turned away from the window. Most of the other passengers were either reading newspapers or sleeping. His eyes were half-closed, and I could tell he was sleepy too. After all, he had been up before me. He caught me looking at him. He gave me a small grin and patted his shoulder, inviting me to him. I laid my head on his shoulder, and I could feel his cheek against my hair.

"It's not that long a flight," he whispered. "Don't sleep too much, or you'll have jetlag...." He sighed, and said nothing. I decided to keep my mouth shut and said nothing more either.

The flight seems to be going smoothly. What's Paris like?

Author's notes: Not that much happens in this chapter, just the beginning of the flight. I hope the next chapter will have more action.

Yes, I mean to make Shorty's parents look evil. You'll see why in the following chapters.

I have a new plan for this fic. The fic might become too long, so I might divide into another fic with a different name.

Shorty's last name is Tomohura. And an interesting note, Captain Takimachi is Tsutomu's father and Comet's uncle (in my Pander fic).


	4. Chapter 4: City of Lights

Disclaimer: All Bust-A-Groove elements belong to Enix. I own nothing.

Note: The Mercure Montmartre Hotel really is a hotel in Paris. It belongs to its owner, however that is.

Note: I'm beginning to notice that each passing chapter strays farther and farther away from Bust-A-Groove. Keep in mind that Shorty, and only Shorty, is narrating this. He, one of the Bust-A-Groove guys, will be revealed in due time. I don't want you guys to think this is just another story. It deals with two of the BAG characters, but not really the storyline.

La Rima Tibia

(Warm Rhythm)

Chapter 3: City of Lights

by ArchFaith (formerly known as the ArchPrincess of Saturn)

"Yew, these cookies are nasty," I choked, giving up my attempt to eat the lumpy cookies that lay in front of me.

Next to me, he had also given up trying to devour the dark lumps. "Don't worry Shorty. The food in Paris is much better," he assured me.

"That's a relief," I replied.

Almost five hours sitting on a plane had made me kind of irritable. He and I had been awoken from our peaceful sleep a few minutes after we closed our eyes. It had been the breakfast cart. We had both been hungry, our own meager breakfast not being enough to satisfy our stomachs.

As it turns out, the food wasn't that good. And the bad food mixed with the turbulent flight made me throw it up a few minutes later. He was awfully nice about it. "Everyone gets sick sometimes," he said, patting me on the back.

Together we had strapped on earbands and listened to the bland, boring movie. Something about a knight saving a princess from a red dragon. The acting was awful! In fact, we accidentally woke up a few of the passengers when we started laughing and making fun of the movie. I blushed and grinned. The people grouchily went back to sleep.

I didn't eat the second meal or the snack, being afraid to get sick again. He didn't either, knowing the smell of airplane food was nauseating to me. I had huddled against my pillow and fallen asleep until he asked me if I wanted some cookies. I had tried eating them, but given them up. Which brings me to here.

The flight attendant took away the plates of foul cookies. He turned to me. "We're almost there," he told me.

"I'm glad," I answered. "I've been in here way too long." I suddenly thought of the return trip and shuddered. But I realized that spending a few days in the most romantic city in the world would be worth it.

"Attention," the captain's voice announced. "Attention passengers, we are now 90 miles from Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. We are beginning our descent. Please make sure your tray tables—"

I decided to tune out the captain and looked out the window. I could see the rolling French countryside lying far below me. The colors appeared to be shades of yellow, red, orange, and brown. I could see fields of crops and tiny farmhouses. Provincial France. My governess had taught me about this. But I quickly reminded myself that soon I would be seeing quite a different cityscape on our arrival in Paris.

I was right. Soon the houses turned into apartment buildings and stores. And they multiplied until they covered all of my view. They were everywhere! Was I really in Paris now?

I got my answer in the form of a sliver-colored version of Tokyo Tower...the original. The Eiffel Tower.

I became so excited I squealed. A couple of passengers turned their heads and stared at me. I so dislike it when people do that! "Sorry," I whispered. The heads turned away.

He patted my hand. "Excited already huh?" he asked, understanding.

I nodded. "Yeah!"

"Flight attendants, prepare for landing," the captain instructed. The attendants briskly walked back to their seats.

I could now see the buildings of Paris more clearly. Shops and boutiques, restaurants and cafes, museums and galleries. All the things that made the City of Lights more sophisticated and beautiful.

The plane slowly descended into the clouds. In a moment we were closer to the ground. I spied people walking through the sidewalks and cars weaving through the streets. Soon he and I would be joining them.

The airport tower soon came into view, and the plane dropped sharply. It was a fast and bumpy landing, almost jarring me out of my seat. In my excitement, I had forgotten to fasten my seatbelt. Fortunately, he slipped his arm around my waist and held on to me, so I wouldn't be flung away. I gave him an expression of gratitude.

The plane came to a stop. We had landed.

"Please remain in your seats until the captain turns off the FASTEN SEATBELT sign," the attendant's voice filtered. Everyone sat quietly while the extension ramp connected onto the airplane door. I saw the wings of the plane retract, as they weren't needed on the ground. Across from where I sat, there was a large mural painted onto one of the airplane hangars.

BONJOUR

WELCOME TO PARIS, FRANCE

"C'mon, Shorty, let's go," he said, standing up. I looked back into the cabin and saw that the seatbelt sign had been turned off. The passengers were standing up and gathering their bags from underneath the seats or in the luggage compartments above. He reached up and pulled his leather bag from the compartment and slung it onto his shoulder. I remembered my pack and slipped it onto my back . I stood up and stretched my legs, not having bothered to get out of my seat during the entire flight. My hair and clothes were a bit wrinkled, and I quickly smoothed them out.

The line of people waiting to get out of the plane slowly began to move. I followed him as we walked back through the plane's body.

A flight attendant stood waiting at door. "Goodbye, take care," she told us as we walked through. He nodded politely, and I waved. We stepped off the plane and onto the extension ramp. He walked quickly, and I ran to keep up with him. He took my hand and we came out of the ramp and into the airport arrival lobby.

The airport was clean and modern. Glass elevators raced up and down between floors, and waiting passengers lounged in cushioned seats. Attendants in chic red uniforms and captains wearing smart-looking blue pants and jackets strolled by.

He placed his hand on my shoulder. "We need to get our bags," he said softly. I grabbed his hand and he led me through a series of walkways and ramps. In one aspect, this airport was no different from the one we had left behind, in Tokyo...it had small fast-food booths, newspaper and magazine shops, the same signs pointing the way to terminals. Everything in the airport was written in two languages: French and English, making it understandable to me.

I thought again of my parents. To make me their perfect little doll, they had tried to make me learn French. I could say a few phrases—"Bonjour", "Au revoir", and numbers one through ten. I hadn't really learned anything new after that. My heart just wasn't into it. My parents had given up on teaching me a new language.

Hm. I wonder how you say, "I love you," in French? I had been taught how to say the phrase, but forgotten from my lack of study. When I find out how to say it I'll tell him that, I promised myself. Would he know what it means? Maybe. Then he'd know my feelings for him.

"Can you speak French?" I asked him wistfully.

He gave me a smile. "Well, I went to class for it. But I failed. So not really."

"How will we be able to read anything?"

He patted his back. "I brought a language guidebook."

By this time, we had arrived at the luggage carousel. The passengers from the flight gathered around it. Some of them recognized me as the noisy little girl and turned their heads in disgust. I ignored them and stayed close to him, as we took a place near the edge of the belt. "Are we going to need a cart?" I questioned.

"Nah, I don't think so. We can carry it, right?" he answered, peering down at me.

"Right," I replied. We waited a little while before the belt finally starting moving and the luggage began to come out.

It must have been luck. Our bags were the first to come out! They came together, first his, then mine. We gave each other lopsided grins and picked them up. "Now where are we going?" I asked.

"We have to take a taxi to our hotel," he responded, as we walked from the carousel into another passageway. The sign above read, in English, "Ground transportation – ". We turned to the left and reached the taxi station. By another stroke of luck, we were the first ones in line.

I hopped into the car while he and the driver put the bags into the trunk. Soon, he was next to me and we were heading towards our hotel. Luckily, the driver knew a bit of English, enough to get us to where we were going.

It wasn't a very long drive, but I had time to take in the sights of the city. Everything just had a foreign feel to it, a mysterious feel that made me want to explore and find out exactly what was inside. Women in dresses and hats strolled, walking poodles. Children played outside, laughing and talking. There were tiny antique shops which held old clocks and music boxes. I thought all of them were beautiful.

We finally arrived at the hotel. It was called the Mercure Montmartre Hotel, located in a nice, comfortable section of Paris. Shady trees surrounded the entrance. While he paid the tab I took my suitcase and stepped into the lobby.

The walls were bronze-colored, and the chairs in the lobby were made of wood and had green cushions. He stepped up to the desk and I waited next to him.

"Hello sir, are you here to check in?" the woman at the desk asked. She had a thick French accent, which made some of her words hard to understand.

"Yes," he replied, giving her his name. She looked it up in a book. "Ah yes, you have a reservation."

"Another thing," he said, indicating me. "I've brought someone with me. Can I get another room for her?" He leaned in closer, so that I wouldn't hear. I heard part of it anyway. "It will all be paid for by (mumble mumble)."

Huh? Someone else was paying for the trip? Who was it?

"Of course sir. Adjoining rooms?"

Looking at me, he replied, "Yes."

I decided to wonder about our mysterious benefactor later.

She gave us our key cards and we strode onto the elevator. The third floor...one, two, three.

Rooms 312 and 314. I had 314. I pushed the card into the slot and went inside. The room was casually elegant. It had a comforter on the bed, curtains covering the windows, a mini-refridgerator. I dropped my bags on the floor and quickly opened the door leading to his room. He was sitting on the bed, his shoes already off. "Nice huh?" he asked, lying down on the king-sized bed.

I nodded. "Yeah." He looked so cute lying there that I kicked off my shoes and scooted in next to him. He didn't seem to mind.

I placed my head on the crook of his shoulder. He shifted a little to accomodate me. "Hey...I've been wondering...what was the reason you came to Paris?" I asked, half-asleep.

"Business," he replied neutrally.

"Oh," I responded, not wanting to annoy him.

"Tell you what," he began. "Let's see. It's two o'clock right now. Let's take a nap and then we'll go out and eat something."

"That sounds great," I answered. I snuggled up to him.

By now he must know that I have something for him. "Shorty..." he began.

I tried to wave my crush away, and I think I succeeded. "I love you like a brother," I whispered.

He sighed, a sigh of relief. "Like a brother? That's good. I don't want things to get too heavy now."

"Heavy? Nah, I was never thinking of that," I replied before falling fast asleep. Or at least pretended to, so I wouldn't have to talk to him about it.

-

Whaddya know? I actually did go to sleep. And I had that dream again. But it was a little different than last time.

He was there, but his arms weren't open to me. He stood stiffly, staring at me. I ran to him and threw my arms around him. He did not respond.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "It's you..."

"What's wrong?!" I demand, letting go of him.

"..."

"Answer me!" I screamed.

"Shorty...I don't want you to leave me, but sooner or later you'll have to," he whispered ominously. He seemed to fade into the blackness that surrounded us.

"What are you talking about?!" I yelled. He was nowhere to be found.

"Ah!" I screamed.

"Shorty? Shorty, wake up!" I was jarred awake when he shook me.

"What happened to you!?" I yelled, embracing him. I was back in his room, lying on the bed. He was leaning over me, concern in his eyes.

"N-nothing happened," I answered, hugging me back.

"You were having a nightmare."

"Huh? Oh, yeah," I replied, blushing. "Sorry."

"It's alright," he answered. I noticed he had changed his clothes and his hair was slightly wet. "Ready to go out?"

"Uh yeah," I replied. I rose from the bed and shakily walked over to the door. I opened it and went back to my room. It had only been a dream. Nothing to worry about. Right?

Opening the suitcase, I searched until I found what I wanted. It was a long-sleeved red tee with little mice on the sleeve. For pants I chose baggy pink jeans. I changed my hairstyle back into my familiar pigtails and walked back into his room.

"Wow! Lookin' good!" he told me as I walked in.

"You look pretty nice too," I countered. "Well, let's go!"

I'm finally here...let's have some fun!!

Author's notes: Did that seem a little mushy to you? I tried to tone it down a bit. And I know maybe it seems like the fic is getting pointless, but in the upcoming chapters, Shorty and him are going to have a special dance in a special place. (No, nothing dirty!)

And about the dream Shorty had...you'll find out later!

XOXO, Archie


	5. Chapter 5: Moonlight Tower

Disclaimer: All Bust-A-Groove elements belong to Enix. I own nothing.

La Rima Tibia

(Warm Rhythm)

Chapter 4: Moonlight Tower

by ArchFaith (formerly known as the ArchPrincess of Saturn)

"Shorty...I don't want you to leave me, but sooner or later you'll have to."

"NO!" I screamed. My hand reached for him. I was able to grab his hand and hold it, hold it before the darkness claimed him. So that he wouldn't leave me and I wouldn't leave him. We'd be together. That's what I wanted.

His hand turned harder and bigger. Still, I held on, determined not to have him lost to me, as my parents were. As I was lost to myself.

"Ah, no, don't go away! I'm here!"

Oh...

I involuntarily kicked my legs. This action startled me out of my torturous reverie and back into reality. My eyes popped open, and I flew up in bed, the covers rustling gently around my polka-dotted nightie. My messy brown hair hovered behind, like a dark veil against my pillow. The clock read 3:47. I detected slight movement in the room adjoining mine; he was probably awake and wondering what I was doing. I pulled my knees under my chin and began to sob.

The evening after our arrival in Paris was pleasant. He took me out to an elegant restaurant, for which I was embarrassingly underdressed. There, I tasted a French specialty, escargot. I thought it would be disgusting, but it was actually quite good. I had tasted millions of things before, in my 13-year-diplomatic-daughter career, but never something like that.

The next two days after our arrival were a whirlwind of excitement. Every day, we would both rise at 6 AM, to beat the crowds going to the famous landmarks, such as the Arc de Triomph or the Louvre. We were able to reach the Arc and examine its frail, classic beauty. And as for the Louvre....it must be full of people all the time. To see the Mona Lisa, we had to elbow our way into the crowd and through the large room where it was displayed. It turned out to be smaller than I expected.

The next day, we got on a tourist bus and headed up to the Palace of Versailles, where the French royalty used to lead the country. It was very, very elegant, but seemed to be a little over-the-top with its decorations. Not to mention, the cobblestone streets did little to reverse the soreness of my feet.

Every night we'd go out to a restaurant and have the specialty of the day. I was learning to speak a few phrases from the French guidebook, and could already say, "I would like..." and "Where is..."

We used those terms a lot.

But the next two days after that, he told me the real reason he had come to Paris. And I discovered, it was not to be with me.

Sitting up late at night, my head in his lap, watching some anime dubbed in French. I was almost asleep, but soon he spoke and I was wide awake.

"Shorty...I don't think we'll be able to do anything for the next three days."

"Huh?!" I exclaimed, flying up. I stared at him. "Three days? But aren't we leaving in three days?"

"Yes, but there is something I need to take care of."

"What?"

"There's a convention going on in Paris right now. I was registered to go."

"What kind of a convention?"

"Business."

Realizing that if I asked him again he would not answer, I sighed and lay back down. Three days? We were leaving then? What did he have to do that was more important than being with me?

Plenty of things, Shorty. Stop being so selfish.

Alright, fine.

Waking up the next morning, I opened the door to his room, which was left unlocked. He was gone. There lay a note on his dresser, which read:

Dear Shorty,

I went to the convention and will be back by 8 tonight. Don't go out of the hotel without me.

I angrily crumpled it up and threw it in the garbage. Great.

So I followed what he asked me. I stayed inside the hotel, never setting a foot outside. I was able to go swimming in the indoor pool on the top floor, but it was tremendously boring without anyone to talk to. I tried watching French TV, but I couldn't understand a bit of it. Why? This excursion was supposed to be exciting and enjoyable. Instead it was turning out that he was leaving me alone again. Just like my parents left me. Did no one want to be with me? Was I that unlikable?

Both nights when he returned, I had asked him, "What was the convention like? What did you do?" He told me not to worry about it. But still, I wondered. What exactly was the convention about? Were the people there the sponsors who paid for our trip?

It was the second night, now. The second-to-last night before we would leave the City of Lights. This dream and all...it's too much for me. Why am I having this dream? Does it mean something? Would something happen to me in the future? Or to him?

I can't bear these thoughts. That's why you hear me crying right now. I just feel awful. You'd think that I should be happy, being in Paris with him. I was. But when he is gone, I am not. I'm not obsessed...

Just...lonely.

I got enough of this from my parents in Tokyo. I had no time to make real friends, since I was kept in that prison-like mansion all the time. The closest things I had to friends were my fellow competitors in Bust-A-Groove. Columbo tried to satisfy my hunger for warmth and friendship, but he could not, as much as he tried. I am lonely. And now that I have warmth spread all around me, I don't want it to leave, like everything else did...

Footsteps. He opens the door to my room, in his nightclothes. In the moonlight I see a concerned stance. He goes over to me and wraps his arms around me. "Shorty! Did you have another bad dream?" he asks, as if he spoke to a child.

"I'm not a kid anymore," I reply. He looks at me strangely. My answer had made no sense. I bow my head and stare at the pillow between my knees. "Yeah. I had that nightmare again."

"What was it about?" he questioned.

"Well, I really don't want to talk about it..."

"It's better if you talk to me about it..."

I look him in the eye. How could I tell him my dream? That I dreamt about him holding me and kissing me? Then things would be so uncomfortable between us!

"Please, don't make me talk."

He sighed. "Okay." He reaches for the tissue box on the nightstand. Delicately he wipes my cheek of the salty tears. "Don't cry anymore. It was only a dream. It wasn't real."

I nod. I lay my head back onto my pillow. He tucks the comforter around me. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

"Nah. S'right," I answer, snuggling against my pillow. He leans down and kisses me twice, on the forehead, and on the cheek. He smiles. "My ma always used to do that when I had bad dreams. Two kisses keep bad thoughts away."

"Wouldn't it be easier getting a dreamcatcher?" I suggested sleepily.

"Do you have one?" he queried.

"Nope."

"Then I'll get you one. So it'll fill in for me when I can't be there."

My eyes opened again. _When I can't be there._

"Y'know, tomorrow's our last day in Paris," I say, hoping he'll take the hint.

"I know. I still have plenty of stuff to do at the convention," he replied.

I scowl, unseen in the darkness. "Night," I say neutrally.

"G'night," he answers, retreating back into his room.

Try not to think about all of this. Soon you'll be back in Tokyo, with your daily routine. Get up, eat breakfast, play video games, eat lunch, read books, eat dinner, play board games, go to sleep.

Darn.

-

That day he was gone longer than usual. Meanwhile, I packed all my things, folding my dirty laundry into messy piles, cramming into my case, along with various other souvenirs and items that I had bought. I went to the hotel giftshop and selected a postcard of the Eiffel Tower for Columbo. I'd give it to him when I arrived back in Japan, since it was too late to mail it.

Pack your bag: CHECK

Watch incomprehensible TV: CHECK

Take a swim by yourself: CHECK

Wonder what the convention was about: CHECK

Read the French guidebook: CHECK

I don't know why I was reading the French guidebook. It was my last night in France. I wouldn't be needing it anytime soon. Yet....I still hadn't bothered to look up "I love you."

Ah, here it is. "I love you..."

The door to my room opened. He stood there, a briefcase in one hand. As I looked up, I noticed that it was already ten o'clock.

I lazily sat up. "My stuff's packed."

He goes to me and grabs my hand. "We're going out tonight."

"We are?"

He nods. "Yes. C'mon, put on some clothes," gesturing to my nightgown.

"Where we goin'?"

"You'll see," he replied ominously. "Shorty, put on the same things you wore for BAG2." He went back into his room and shut the door.

Puzzled, I opened my suitcase. My familiar blue jeans peered back at me. I slipped out of my nightie and pulled the jeans on. Next came my long white T-shirt, then my red chain. I did my hair in my famous pigtails. Finally, my platform sneakers. All that was missing was a mouse on my head.

Looking at myself in the mirror, practicing a smile. I looked so much younger than I felt. But inside I would always be Shorty. The little pigtailed girl who had a mouse named Columbo, who gained second place in both BAG competitions.

But, I silently promised, I wouldn't be her tonight.

Just then, he entered my room. He was also wearing his BAG2 outfit. "Cool," I said as he walked in. "You look great."

He grinned. "I look like I do every day. You, on the other hand..."

We stepped out of the room and went down the hall. Into the elevator, out, past the lobby, on the curb, into a taxi.

"Where you going?" the driver asked in halting English.

He leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. He nodded and we sped away from the hotel entrance.

"What did you say?" I asked.

"You'll see," he repeated. "A surprise."

Paris was different at night. Neon lights lit up clubs and theaters. The people of the night came out. Men and women, dressed for action, walked along the streets, to clubs or dances. The more refined were clothed in formal dress, to an opera or a play.

The car zipped through the streets quickly, so I could only spot a few things as I went by. A woman walking a poodle. A man carrying a bag of long bread. A little girl with the saddest eyes...

Suddenly a piece of cloth deterred my vision. A blindfold!

"What're ya doin'?" I ask as he ties the cloth around my head.

"I really want you to be surprised. We're almost there," he explains.

I sigh and sit back, unable to continue my observations. Presently he tells the driver to stop. I can hear the exchange of money, the door opening, him getting out, pulling me after him. I was standing on cement, that was for sure. I wonder what the surprise was.

He took me by the shoulders and led me onto a patch of grass. There, he unfolds the blind from my eyes. "Take a look," he advises.

My eyes are unprepared for what they see.

The Eiffel Tower, mysterious and elegant, stands right in front of me. The giant moon looms behind it, like a backdrop specially created for the Tower. It's so beautiful...

For a moment it was all I could see. The Tower, majestically rising over me, the moon against it, hugging the steel structure to its luminous body.

I feel his hand on my shoulder. "Let's go."

"We're going up there?"

"Yeah."

"But isn't it too late?"

"Yeah. But we're going up there."

I wonder how.

We walk up the long path up the green patch to the base of the tower. I expected a guard to be standing next to the entrance of the elevator, but there is none. I look at him.

He holds up a tarot card that reads on the back, "POWER OF SLEEP". "Pinky gave it to me a while ago. I used it on the guard while I was coming back from the convention," he explains. "He'll be out 'till tomorrow."

He pulls me onto the elevator. Up, up we go. I feel a little scared, since the sides were not closed and I could see the entire city from the heights. I really did not like heights. Still, I stood tall and confident on the platform, looking out at the city before me. It was a black sea shining with the lights of a thousand boats, drifting against the silent darkness. And for a while, it seemed that only we were there-him and I, that no one else existed.

Finally the platform reached the very top of the tower. It was an outdoor observation room, with telescopes mounted on the railings and benches pushed against the sides of the elevator. I looked out upon the world. It seemed as though I could see everything, all the way from Paris to Tokyo, all things were visible. The moon hovered close to me, so close I could touch it.

I was enchanted.

I stood there for sometime, looking and watching. Footsteps approached and he placed his hand on my shoulder. A suggestion: "Let's dance."

"Up here?" I inquire, unbelieving.

He nods. "No one's looking. Why not?"

I smile. "Sure. But...we don't have a stereo or anything."

"We don't need one," he answers. "Pick a song and I'll sing to it."

I giggle at the thought of him singing. "Well...how 'bout Moonlight Party?" I had always loved Kelly's slow rhythms. I thought she had had the best theme in BAG2.

"Okay," he answers, positioning himself in the middle of the platform on which we stand. I hastily set myself next to him, ready to begin my hip-hop when he began.

"One, two, three, four," he said softly. He then began to dance and sing at almost the same time.

It was "Moonlight Party", but not everything was the same.

"Clap clap clap ya hands, clap clap ya hands!

It must'a been a lonely vision, alone there on the sea

She must'a had a real bad time, cause, I'm tellin' her, It's alright

I wish that I could have done somethin', I coulda made her believe

Cast it away, no more now! And then the whispers came tumblin' out!

Moonlight Party! Sway until you ache!

Moonlight Party! And don't ever forsake!

Moonlight Party! Just keep going up!

Moonlight Party! Night Party! C'mon, clap ya hands!"

It sounded so right for his deep voice. I had been able to complete all my dance moves perfectly to the rhythm he created. I waited for him to continue, but instead he gestured to me.

"Go on, Shorty-pie," he whispered.

"But I don't know if I can."

"You can do it."

"O-Okay," I answered, not knowing if I could sing AND dance at the same time. I took a deep breath and took off where he left.

"She'd a real hard time of it, driftin' there all alone

And the rain'd sting her eyes, ta the point of a blind

When'er she was sad or alone, she'd look to the land

See him standin' there, every hour, and the white light 'gins to shower!

Moonlight Party! Go up, don't get pushed down!

Moonlight Party! Smile until ya frown!

Moonlight Party! Just keep goin' on!

Moonlight Party! Night Party! C'mon, clap ya hands!"

"Mine wasn't as good as yours," I say.

"It was great!" he exclaims. "C'mon, let's finish."

We were grooving so much our bodies were bursting with blue light, a sign of the Groove-tron. We began to go for our finishing moves, swaying slowly, hand motions wild. And we alternated the last sections, making them up as we went along:

"Moonlight Party! You are my good friend!"

"Moonlight Party! Stay that way till the end!"

"Moonlight Party! My hope's begun anew!"

"Moonlight Party! Night Party! So, lemme kiss you..."

The last line ended with an ever-so-tiny kiss on the lips from him. On the lips. Did that count as a love kiss? Or...?

I went to him, threw my arms around him, and kissed him with all my might. True, I was only 13, but I knew that he was my beloved and I loved him with all my heart. I couldn't control it. What could I have done...

"Je t'aime," I whisper, into his ear.

"I love you too."

Paris is over. Back to stupid old Tokyo.....

Notes: Mushiness explodes in this chapter. I'm a real romantic at heart, that's why. And I really think it was about time Shorty gave him a real kiss. Don't worry, nothing dirty happens after this. It's the last thing Shorty remembers, but that doesn't necessarily mean they...! (She's only 13, after all.)

Readers will be in for a big surprise next chapter...


	6. Chapter 6: All I Remember

Disclaimer: Bust-A-Groove belongs to Enix. I own nothing.

La Rima Tibia

Chapter 6: All I Remember...

by ArchFaith (formerly known as the ArchPrincess of Saturn)

"Attention passengers. This is your pilot, Captain Takimachi. I'd like to welcome you aboard InterWorld Airlines on Flight 578, bound for Tokyo, Japan. Our flight time is approximately 5 hours, and there will be two meals and a light snack served on the way. There will also be two movies shown on the flight."

I leaned my head back on the seat, listening to the captain's announcement. Next to me, he sat quietly, reading a magazine.

Last night seemed so far away...like a dream. Maybe it was my dream come true. Him holding me, kissing me, telling me he loved me...after our kiss, we had gone back to the hotel. Don't worry, nothing heavy happened between us...I wouldn't dream of that! I'm only 13...

A good night's rest. He tucked me in. And I slept.

I didn't have my dream again. The good version nor the bad one. I dreamed of nothing. For that one night, I was content.

Then morning arrived. Much too soon. He was shaking me awake at 4 AM, for our flight back was at 6:30 AM. Our vacation was officially over.

I took a shower and got dressed. He did as well. We then retrieved our bags, lugged them down to the reception area and checked out.

He never did tell me who paid for the trip. Maybe when I got back to Tokyo, he'd reveal who it was.

We hailed a taxi to the airport. We were dropped off at the terminal, where we checked in at the counter. It didn't take a very long time...but as it turned out, we were the last on the plane. And we had made it just in time; if we had been five minutes later, they would have left without us.

As I sit here, on the plane going back to Tokyo, my home, I feel a pang of sadness. It was so fun...well, except for the days when he would be at the convention. What was the convention anyway? Why was it so important?

"You never told me what the convention was about," I whisper into his ear, not wanting to disturb the noisy silence of the plane.

"It was business. For my job," he answers, flipping the pages of the magazine.

"Hey, what IS your job?" I ask, realizing that I knew very little about him outside of BAG. I thought I knew him, but...

He shakes his head. "Nothing for you to know."

I am about to repeat the question when he pulls me close. "Go to sleep, Shorty-pie. We woke up really early, right? Aren't you still sleepy?"

As I was, I didn't feel like going to sleep at the moment, due to the walking and carrying, but suddenly I felt my eyelids began to droop. He was just doing this so I wouldn't ask him about the convention, but the trick was working...

I snuggled up to him and fell sound asleep.

-

I thought I had gotten out of it; but no, there's no escaping for me.

I had that dream. Again. The bad version.

"Shorty...I don't want you to leave me, but sooner or later you'll have to."

Why?!

Who sends me these dreams? What do they mean? Is something going to happen to me? Or to him? This can't be, it just can't...!

My eyes fly open. I feel his cheek brushing against my hair. He is asleep. He must be dreaming better dreams than I am at the moment. I sit upright on the chair, disturbing our sleeping position. He wakes up, his eyes slightly glazed. "Shorty...what's...?"

I decide to finally tell him the dream. It was no use hiding it. If I kept it to myself I'd go insane. I wanted him to know, finally know what was bothering me. And if it meant anything—

"Well, I've been having this dream over the last few weeks," I begin.

He nods, urging me to go on.

"And...well, there are two versions...the good one and the bad one. And—"

The plane suddenly swerved sharply, sending me crashing into him. I had forgotten to put on my seatbelt. He caught me and held me. I snuggled my head onto his shoulder. "And..." I continued, "well...the good version has you in it...well, so does the bad one..."

The captain's voice filtered over the speaker. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are having some problems with the right engine. Please remain in your seats with your seatbelt fastened."

I plopped back into my seat and tightly fastened my seatbelt. He seemed to either ignore the announcement or not notice it. "Go ahead."

"And...in the good version, you would be standing there, holding your arms out—"

The captain's voice yet again, as the plane took a sudden dip, making me feel like I had left my stomach behind. "Attention passengers: there is a problem with the right engine. It has started to malfunction..."

"To me, and I'd go to you, and you'd kiss—"

"Is there a mechanic or technical supervisor onboard the plane at the moment?" the captain asked.

"Me, and tell me you love me—"

"Attention passengers: we may have to make an emergency landing in the Sea of Japan. I ask that you please put on your safety floatation—"

He never got to finish.

Neither did I.

The plane took a nose dive, sending the panicky people reeling back into their seats. I was thrown back, unable to move, do anything except scream. I was pushed back into the seat...the plane was descending so fast I couldn't breathe, couldn't close my eyes.

Some of the people, their seatbelts having been unfastened, were being flung back and forth across the cabin. Next to me, he was also screaming, however unmanly it might have been.

In terror, I glanced out the window, having been seated in a window seat. I could see the approaching ocean, the blue waves, the whitecaps, waiting to eat me alive, to swallow the plane and drop it to the bottom of the sea.

This was my dream.

I close my eyes and manage to grab his hand. He grasps me tightly, unable to say anything to me. My eyes have tears in them. Would it end like this? Please, I'm only 13! I have my whole life ahead of me! Don't take me away. I want to be with him...

The horrible noise of our splash into the ocean, the passengers' screaming throats, the water filling up the window, my hand grasping onto his...

That's all I remember...

Notes: This is the end of this fanfic. However, if you want to know what happens to Shorty and who he is, stay tuned for the continuation, El Ritmo Frio, a separate fanfic, which deals with a different perspective.


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